


Unexpected Changes

by BlackHawksChild



Series: Moments [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, Hospital, Mentions of Bomb Explosion, Near Death, Pregnant Natasha Romanoff, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:36:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4775612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackHawksChild/pseuds/BlackHawksChild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"… the path of his life had just detoured down another trail…"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected Changes

"…  _the path of his life had just detoured down another trail…"_

Natasha sat in the cool, white room, her mind and heart numb. The red-head had her left hand resting on her stomach, her right up by her mouth as she bit nervously on her index finger. The beeping of the heart monitor and the loud wheezing of the ventilator were neither comforting nor reassuring for the pregnant woman. She lifted her green eyes, dull with worry, to look at her husband who was sleeping peacefully in the hospital bed in front of her. He was in a coma as a result of a bomb explosion which perforated his middle ear and caused extensive injuries to the rest of his body.

Clint lay peacefully on the bed, a white bandage wrapped carefully but firmly around his head. It was the only evidence of the injury to his head and the surgery he'd received. Following the two hour surgery, the doctors had informed Natasha that Clint had lost almost eighty per cent of his hearing. They'd also expressed their opinions on how Clint was a very lucky man to be alive; many others in the building had not been so fortunate. There was white tape keeping the ventilator in place, helping his collapsed lungs continue to repair. His naturally spiky hair was matted down on his scalp while a high percentage of his body was covered in bandages.

Natasha paid little attention to the doctors and nurses entering and exiting the room, checking his vitals and changing his IV bags. She played with her wedding ring and engagement rings every now and again; a million thoughts raced through her mind but she could never focus on just one. Eventually, the red-head was brought out of her thoughts by her brother-in-law re-entering the private room. "You haven't left his side since he was brought out of surgery." It wasn't a question.

But Natasha shook her head in response, regardless. "No. I haven't," she replied, her voice hoarse from lack of use. "There's been no change."

Barney nodded, letting out a soft sigh. He handed Natasha a cup of tea, the Styrofoam cup still warm. Even though the hospital tea was horrible, the older of the two brothers knew it was better if his sister-in-law was drinking something.

"Thanks," Natasha whispered, grateful for the tea, regardless of its lukewarm temperature. She took thoughtless sips of the drink every-so-often, paying little attention to the horrible taste. She reached over and took Clint's hand in her own, her thinner fingers distracting herself with the mindless activity.

"He's going to be okay, Natasha," Barney suddenly stated, making the red-head turn to him, surprise written clearly over his face. "He's a stubborn mule. He's going to be okay." The thirty-four-year-old offered his sister-in-law a weak smile. It was all he could do at that moment in time.

Natasha found herself nodding, bringing one hand to her stomach. She was still flat as she was still in her first trimester. She tried to return his smile. But she was unsuccessful. "For the baby's sake, he better be," she confessed softly, surprising Barney. This he could smile genuinely.

"Congrats, Nat. I'm guessing it was unexpected?" he asked, sitting down in the chair beside Natasha. "Clint never said anything."

"I found out the day the bomb went off. That was almost a month ago. I was going to call him but… then I git the call that he'd been injured."

Barney nodded in silent understanding. He placed a comforting hand on her arm, not knowing what words could comfort his sister-in-law. He turned his head to look at his brother. Clint hadn't moved and there still wasn't a sign of him waking up anytime soon. Barney sent a silent prayer to a god he had long given up on, hoping, praying – begging! – that his little brother would wake up. They both knew what it was like to grow up without a father. And Barney didn't want to see his niece or nephew grow up without their father as well…

* * *

 

Barney sat in a chair in the corner of the sterile white hospital room, his eyes uselessly following the first of the newspaper he was trying to read. Every now and again, he would lift his gaze to look at his sister-in-law who was sleeping restlessly in a chair beside Clint's bed. Her left hand was resting protectively on her stomach while her right held her husband's, their fingers interlaced. The red-head moved every-so-often, mumbling incoherently while her body squirmed ever-so-slightly. Barney knew she was having a dream – and a bad one at that – but he knew better than to wake the ex-army captain: he was more likely to be left on his ass than anything else. The thirty-four-year-old moved his head to look at his brother once more. The doctors had removed the ventilator and replaced with an external oxygen mask, informing Barney and Natasha that his lungs were strong enough for Clint to breathe on his own, while the oxygen mask was there to help him. Now the twenty-eight-year-old lay in his bed with the only signs of him showing any improvement was the steady beep of the monitor and the movement of his chest, the steady rise and fall. The last twenty-four hours had seen great improvements for Clint, much to the relief of his wife and brother.

Barney's observation of his brother was suddenly broken by Natasha sitting up with a start, her breathing laboured and quick. She looked around the room, her green eyes confused from exhaustion and sleep. She took a deep steadying breath, closing her eyes and forcing her body to relax. Everything that happened lately had thrown her off balance – the news that she was pregnant, Clint's injury. The unexpectedness of it all had her exhausted and fearful of what could happen. She kept repeating to herself, ' _You're okay. The baby's okay. Clint is going to be okay._ ' It helped distract her from everything else going on around her. A few minutes later, she opened her eyes, looking up to find Barney watching her carefully. "I'm fine," she lied, her voice hoarse from exhaustion and her short nap.

Barney simply nodded in response, silently telling Natasha that he was there to listen if she needed a shoulder to cry on. He lay his newspaper on the ground beside him, deciding that it would be better for them both if he got them something to eat. ' _Well, whatever's edible in any hospital,_ ' he mused silently. And now that he knew that Natasha was pregnant with his niece or nephew, he was going to make sure that she was taken care of while brother was currently out of commission. The thirty-four-year-old asked if she wanted anything in the shop, pretending to accept her rejection.

Natasha paid little attention to Barney as he exited the room. She took Clint's hand back into hers, breathing steadily as she thought about everything that had been happened: Clint evacuating everyone in the building before the bomb went off with him still inside. Finding out that she was pregnant. The call from the station telling her that her husband was injured in the line of duty. Being told that Clint was now deaf. All unexpected for her. For them.

The red-head was brought out of her thoughts by the sudden tightening of Clint's hand around hers. She thought she was imaging things, that her exhausted fearful brain was playing tricks on her. But then she felt it again and she knew she wasn't imagining things.

"Clint?" she whispered, despite knowing that he couldn't hear her, bringing one hand up to stroke his cheek lovingly. "Come on, Love. You've got to wake up. Please." Her voice was husky with all the different emotions going through her. She smiled as she watched. Clint's eyelids flutter and the heart monitor registering the quickening of his heart rate, both signs that he was slowly waking up. "Come on, Baby. Let me see those pretty eyes again."

Clint's eyes slowly fluttered open, making the twenty-eight-year-old flinch at the sudden burst of white light that greeted his sensitive eyes. He took a moment to take in his surroundings and gather his bearings. By the smell – the sterile smell of disinfectant and bleach – he knew he was in hospital. And he was very well aware of the fact that he could hear nothing but a low buzzing sound – like he had been at a concert where the music had been too loud. He risked opening his eyes once more, delighted to find his wife standing beside the bed, her right hand stroking his cheek lovingly. Although, he frowned in confusion as tears pooled in the corners of Natasha's usually lively green eyes. He brought one hand up to her face, using his thumb to brush away the tears before they could fall. The action made him realise that the doctors must have had him on the 'good stuff' because he couldn't feel any pain. Nor could he remember what stupid action he'd done to put himself in the hospital this time.

Natasha let out a sob of relief as Clint brought his hand up to her face. She twisted her head to kiss the palm of his hand lovingly, her body relaxing for her first time in a month. Her husband, the father of her unborn child, was finally awake.

"Tasha?" he whispered, his voice hoarse and husky from lack of use and sleep. His eyes were trying to close again, his body still exhausted despite his four weeks of unconsciousness.

And Natasha noticed. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his forehead. "Go to sleep, Baby. I'll get the doctor to check on you," she whispered, knowing Clint could figure out what she was saying by pressing her lips to his skin.

Clint nodded sleepily, reluctantly letting Natasha pull away from him. He let himself sink further into his pillows, watching his wife leave the room. The red-head casted one more glance over her shoulder before leaving to get the doctor and to tell Barney that Clint was finally awake…

* * *

 

The doctor was thorough with his examination. Clint had a small case of retrograde amnesia (memory loss of events leading up to and during traumatic accidents) but the doctor guaranteed that he would regain the memories. It was common for patients to lose their memories prior and during a traumatic experience. The doctor also confirmed the damage done to Clint's ears; his right had suffered extensive damage to the middle and inner ear while his left had suffered a fraction less. The twenty-eight-year-old would have to wait another month or so before hearing aids could be fitted, allowing his ears to heal as much as they could to the unexpected change of deafness.

Barney had come and gone during the examination, relieved beyond doubt that his brother was finally awake. The thirty-four-year-old left to contact other family numbers and friends while Natasha stayed with her husband, listening carefully to everything the doctor was explaining to the couple.

After the doctor left, Clint turned to Natasha, tugging on her hand so that she would stop fidgeting with her wedding and engagement rings nervously. Despite his temporary memory loss, Clint could distinctively remember Natasha wanting to speak with him about something important the same day he was injured. "Tasha. What… Are you okay? Are we okay?" he asked, frowning in concern and the weird sensation of not being able to hear himself speak.

Natasha smiled at her husband softly, taking the notepad and pen the doctor had left her so she could communicate with Clint. She wrote quickly in her naturally neat handwriting, turning it so Clint could read it. He relaxed slightly as he read the words – ' _I'm fine. You almost gave me a heart attack. Don't you ever dare to do that again!'_  – smiling at her, bemused as he thought back to her urgent message all those weeks ago.

"So…. We're okay? What about that text? Is everything okay? Didn't you have bloods done, and you were supposed to get the results?" he rambled, his words slurred from exhaustion and the fact that he couldn't hear himself.

Natasha stifled a laugh as she realised why Clint was frantically asking all of these questions; they'd been fighting before his accident, mainly because of Natasha being sick and having constant mood swings. All of which she could now blame on moving sickness and pregnancy hormones. She took back the notepad and wrote, ' _We're fine. I'm okay. The blood tests didn't have anything wrong with them,. But I do have something to tell you._ ' She handed him back the notepad, stifling a smirk when he frowned in concern at her last sentence. He kept his eyes on her as she wrote two words on a new page – ' _I'm pregnant._ '

Clint's jaw dropped as he read the two words. Out of all the things he was expecting from his wife that was the last thing he had expected. He raised his head to look at her, searching for any sign of her playing with his exhausted mind; he found none. "You're.. We're having a baby?" he whispered, his chest tightening with emotions.

Natasha smiled cautiously and nodded, grinning when Clint's face broke out into the biggest grin she'd ever said, ' _Yes_ ,' to his marriage proposal the year beforehand. She nodded and squealed as he suddenly puled her to him, hugging her tightly despite his aching body. He ranted in her ear softly, thanking her while she wrapped her arms around him, mindful of his other injuries, returning his hug.

They both knew that these unexpected changes to their lives and jobs in the homicide unit in NYPD would need adjustments. But they also knew that they could deal with the changes together. They would deal with Clint's new found deafness and they would welcome the new addition to their small family. And in the end, the adjustments would be worth it…


End file.
